


For Real

by peaceoutofthepieces



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28316841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceoutofthepieces/pseuds/peaceoutofthepieces
Summary: Robbe freezes, then drops his hand back onto the bed. He tilts his head down and raises it slightly to look at Sander. “What?”“Just, that.” Sander shrugs, flushing. “Ask someone to go with you and say they’re your boyfriend.”“That sounds like a lot of work and something that could backfire really easily,” Robbe points out, shrugging as he drops his head back again to stare up at the ceiling. “Besides, who would be willing to do that for me?”“I would.”~^~A slightly Christmassy fake-dating fic for the Skam Holiday Event on tumblr :)
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 10
Kudos: 132
Collections: SKAM HOLIDAY EVENT 2020





	For Real

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t proofread so I apologise in advance! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t, I hope this can still brighten your day <3

Sander knows it’s a bad idea before he says it. 

It’s just so difficult, with Robbe’s doe eyes, to resist. Robbe seems so anxious, so annoyed, as he talks about the party he’ll have to attend with the awful members of his extended family. Sander knows it’s difficult enough for Robbe, to have agreed to see his father at all. His heart aches for the boy, and the little frown on his face and the furrow between his brows as he laments over his cousins, who are all allowed to bring dates. 

“He said ‘well if you have a girl you like, you can bring her with you’. Like I haven’t already told him I’m gay,” Robbe groans. “God, I swear he does this on purpose. There are going to be people there that aren’t even family, a bunch of his old friends, and I can just _tell_ he doesn’t want me to ‘embarrass’ him.”

“Maybe he’s trying to protect you,” Sander offers. “He doesn’t want anyone to say anything bad to you.”

Robbe instantly shakes his head. “No, he just doesn’t want anyone to say anything bad _about him_. God, I don’t want to go. Or honestly, I wish I could go and take my boyfriend and rub it in their dumb faces.”

He lets out a sigh and flops back on Sander’s bed. Sander watches him from his desk chair, spinning slightly side to side by pushing his toes against the floor. His heart clenches as he licks his lips. “But you don’t have a boyfriend,” he says slowly. 

“I know,” Robbe groans. “Obviously.”

“You could still tell them you do.”

“They won’t believe me, though. Or my dad would brush it off on purpose.” Robbe sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. 

Sander resists the urge to join him on the bed and find a few creative ways of comforting him. Instead he does something even worse. He suggests, “Then take someone with you, get them to pretend.”

Robbe freezes, then drops his hand back onto the bed. He tilts his head down and raises it slightly to look at Sander. “What?”

“Just, that.” Sander shrugs, flushing. “Ask someone to go with you and say they’re your boyfriend.”

“That sounds like a lot of work and something that could backfire really easily,” Robbe points out, shrugging as he drops his head back again to stare up at the ceiling. “Besides, who would be willing to do that for me?”

“I would.”

This. This is the very stupid thing that Sander says and the two simple words that he wishes he could take back. This is what catches Robbe’s attention, that has him shooting a sharp glance at Sander again, eyes wide and brows raised. 

“You would?” Robbe asks hesitantly. 

_I would do anything for you._

Sander, obviously, says nothing of the sort, though it comes very close. It crawls out of his chest and slithers up his throat and hangs off the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it in. He keeps his mouth closed and nods his head, allowing only a vague admittance because denial is no longer an option. 

“You want to pretend...to be my boyfriend?”

It’s not exactly correct, but there’s a little truth to it. It’s the perfect statement if you subtract a mere two words. Sander doesn’t want to pretend. 

He does, however, want Robbe to be happy. Even if that means potentially sacrificing himself. He doesn’t think, in the moment, of what it could mean or where it could lead. He sees Robbe’s frown and hears Robbe’s hurt and everything in him begs him to soothe it away. 

He may consider the fact that it’s a chance, an unexpected, impossible chance, to indulge. For one night, he won’t have to hide his feelings deep in his chest. For one night, he can be as close to Robbe as he constantly wishes. The only thing he has to accept is that it isn’t real. The feelings aren’t there on Robbe’s side, and anything that happens will be for show, and it’ll probably make the ache in Sander’s heart sharper, but he already knows this. He has gone with unreciprocated feelings for the boy long enough to not get his hopes up. He can manage one night without getting any crazy ideas. 

For Robbe. 

“Not necessarily,” Sander snorts. “But I’m free, and I can help you. Going to a party and pissing off some old folks is right up my alley.”

Robbe stares at him for another moment, having pushed himself up onto his elbows to stop straining his head. He doesn’t look entirely convinced. He looks, in fact, rather bewildered. He’s smiling, just slightly. “Sander…” he shakes his head. “That’s crazy.”

Sander is aware. He scoffs. “It’s a great idea.” He points a finger at Robbe, drawing a circle in the air as if to outline his face. “I can see it there. You agree with me. And it was, technically, your idea.”

“No way.” Robbe holds his hands up. “There’s no way I’m taking credit for this.”

“That sounds like you’re saying yes,” Sander points out, raising his own brows now, heart beating wildly in his chest. He truly wonders, sometimes, just how crazy he is. 

Robbe’s lips crack into a wider smile, and he shakes his head with an incredulous little huff and considers Sander some more. Sander wiggles his brows at him and spreads out his arms. 

That’s all it takes for them to get here, a week later. Sander’s hands are sweaty and his pulse untamable as he raises a hand and knocks on Robbe’s front door. He pulls at the collar of his dark gray button-down, dragging it away from his throat, which had dried up an hour or so prior as Sander stared at himself in the mirror and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into. He almost considers turning on his heel and making a run from it. He could call Robbe and act sick. Make some dry heaving noises to get his point across. Robbe would be upset and disappointed, but not mad. It would be forgotten by next week, with both of them silently relieved they had never gone through with such a ridiculous plan. Sander could do it. 

Then Robbe opens the door, and he doesn’t want to go anywhere. 

Robbe is wearing a maroon-coloured shirt and dark jeans, much skinnier than his usual style. He had told Sander the occasion was dressy-casual, possibly formal enough for a shirt but definitely not for a suit. It isn’t like Robbe is decked out in a full tux, hasn’t modified himself into a Victorian-era-style prince, and yet he’s unusually dashing enough to take Sander’s breath away. 

At this stage, such a thing really shouldn’t be surprising. Sander knows that there isn’t a human being in the universe that holds a candle to Robbe’s beauty, an angelic light that bursts from every seam. It’s only accentuated by the fitted clothing that Robbe is currently fidgeting in. Sander is filled with an overwhelming awe at the sight of him. 

It’s as Sander stares at him in this dumbfounded state that he fully realises how badly he has messed up. 

He clears his throat and draws a smirk on to his face. “Hey. Someone manages to clean up nice.”

The blush that creeps over Robbe’s cheeks is stunning. “You’re not so bad yourself. They’ll really think I did good, huh?”

Sander’s heart stops and stutters, unable to restart again until Robbe turns away to lead him inside. The boy is alone in the house, his mother having gone to visit her parents for the night after spending the day with her son. Robbe seems cheerful as he leads Sander through the house, a small smile on his lips and cheeks a pretty, rosy red. He doesn’t seem half as nervous as Sander himself is. 

He’s grinning, in fact, as he enters the sitting room with Sander in tow. He collects a wrapped package from the coffee table and presses it into Sander’s hands, and Sander blinks at him. 

“What’s this?”

“A gift,” Robbe says slowly. He nudges it towards Sander as Sander continues to stand and stare at him. 

“But...you gave me my present yesterday already.”

Robbe hums. “But this is a boyfriend present.” 

“A—“ Sander stops, blinks. “What?”

“Just open it.” Robbe presses. 

Sander stares at him for another second, then examines the package in his hands. It’s a long, rectangular shape—likely some kind of jewelry box. It makes Sander eager and careful at once as he tears away the paper and reveals a smooth, black leather box with red stitching around the edges. He glances up at Robbe, noting his suddenly shy smile, and then cracks the box open. 

Inside lies a gold bracelet, a small string of links with a charm hanging from the middle that matches exactly with Robbe’s angel pendant. Right next to it is a small lightning bolt. 

It’s beautiful. 

Sander lifts it up carefully, examining it from all angles in awe. Robbe watches on, fretting. 

“Wasn’t this expensive?” Sander questions first, breathless. 

Robbe shakes his head, laughing nervously. “It’s a lot cheaper than it looks, actually.”

Sander breathes a sigh of relief. He’s already struggling to cope with the idea of the gift and its possible meaning. He wouldn’t know what to think or how to react if Robbe had also spent a fortune on him. They had already exchanged their gifts yesterday, Robbe getting Sander a mixture of Bowie-themed items and art supplies and Sander getting Robbe a few hoodies and a personalised skateboard. The boy had jumped on him then, wrapping him in a hug and giving him a tight squeeze, and Sander had melted on the spot. 

Now that soft warmth has turned into a roaring fire and set him alight. His skin is buzzing with the feeling running though his veins, the overwhelming love threatening to spill from him. He has to lay the bracelet back down as his fingers twitch, aching to reach across the divide to Robbe, to touch and trace and tease before dragging him into a kiss. Sander isn’t sure it has ever felt quite so tempting. 

“You don’t have to wear it,” Robbe says quickly. “I just thought...uhm, well. Because it matches mine, it’d be an additional statement. For tonight. But also it’s something you can just wear, that also doesn’t have to have anything to do with me. You can even take the angel charm off, and just wear it with the bolt. If you want.”

“I like that it has something to do with you,” Sander admits, quiet but easy. The words flow out of him before he can stop it. He has a frightening lack of filter around Robbe on many occasions, and it has almost given him more than once. 

Tonight, though, he won’t need one. It makes him suddenly eager to get going. 

It would be easier if he wasn’t so focused on how Robbe blushes, the colour creased with his smile lines. “Yeah?”

“It has a sort of reminder of the two of us,” Sander says simply, running the pad of his finger over the charms once more. “I like that. I love it, actually. Thank you.”

Robbe’s smile widens, and he gives a tiny nod. 

“Can you…?” Sander lifts the bracelet and holds it out towards Robbe. He holds his breath as Robbe takes it and wraps it around his wrist, fingertips brushing along his skin as Robbe clips it into place. He fixes the charms so that they lie comfortably against Sander’s wrist, facing upwards, and Sander can only stare at him as Robbe smooths his thumb over the metal before moving away. 

“What do you think?” Robbe asks. 

Sander shoots him a smirk. “I think we are disgustingly cute boyfriends and should sufficiently piss off whoever needs pissing off.”

Robbe cheers, and Sander’s heart thumps. 

Sander drives them to Robbe’s father’s house, and the car ride is silent aside from the Bowie tracks flowing through the speakers. They have already discussed what is and isn’t acceptable and who to avoid and who to stick with. Robbe has already thanked Sander a hundred times, repeatedly telling him he _really doesn’t have to do this_. 

He has no idea, but Sander can’t possibly pass up the opportunity. 

He’s already on the verge of collapse as they walk up to the front door and Robbe slips his hand into his and squeezes tightly. Sander squeezes back, reminding himself that he is also here as a comfort. More than anything, he is Robbe’s backup. 

Robbe takes a deep breath and then rings the doorbell. 

It’s just a few minutes before his father comes to open it. Mingled voices and low Christmas music filters out from inside, and Robbe squeezes Sander’s hand tighter as his father’s eyes instantly zero in on the connection. 

“Robbe,” Mr Ijzermans says. The cheer in his tone seems forced in his surprise. “I didn’t know Sander would be attending with you.”

Robbe smiles tightly and then shrugs. “You said partners are also invited, right?”

The man blinks at them, eyes a pale blue, a distant call from his son. “Part—are you…?”

“Sander is my boyfriend,” Robbe says, as if it’s obvious; a fact known by the entire world. Sander is just happy neither of them catch his gasp, the sharp intake of breath he can’t prevent as his heart stutters then races.

He doesn’t know how long he has waited for Robbe to say those exact words. 

Sander remembers to smile as he sticks his hand out, coincidentally putting his bracelet on full display. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr Ijzermans.”

The man slowly nods, carefully shaking his hand. Robbe wraps himself around Sander’s arm the instant he lets go, and Sander’s smile widens, unbidden. It’s a terrible, terrible idea. 

But Robbe seems pleased, as his father steps back with a pale face and invites them in, expression subdued. Robbe leaves the bag of gifts he had brought on the floor instants before he is bombarded by people Sander has never met. 

He is quickly introduced, and immediately overwhelmed. Robbe appears so full of pride, as he stands with his hands on Sander’s leather-clad arm and tells a variety of elder woman—and a couple of their husbands and more of their children—that this is his boyfriend. He is met with more than a few stunned faces, but others accept it with nothing more than a blink, cooing and congratulating. Sander falters under the sudden attention, mainly because Robbe is touching him and beaming at him and though he knows it’s all for show, he also knows his own love is likely pouring off of him in waves. He’s positive of it, as he turns his smile on Robbe and the cooing merely worsens. 

It’s worth it, to see Robbe soften in response, his eyes and smile gentling as he gazes up at Sander. 

Then the first brilliant thing happens. 

Sander slides an arm around his shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek, and Robbe instantly flushes. His eyes widen for an instant, and then he’s burying himself in Sander’s neck with a bashful grin. 

Sander’s heart swells and flips as he pulls the boy into his side. This is the danger. This is the beauty. 

This is where Sander begins to see the night as an opportunity. 

By playing Robbe’s boyfriend, he has a one-time chance to show the boy what could be. It’s so easy. To shower Robbe in compliments, to grant him gentle touches and kisses (anywhere but the lips), to settle in front of Robbe protectively in the face of any foes. He has a free pass to show off, to go all out for the sake of their little make-believe show. 

It feels too real, as they move through the house hand-in-hand. They great enthusiastic cousins and unimpressed aunts and uncles and Robbe seems careless to it all with Sander by his side. He ignores entirely the way his father’s work colleagues and friends look down their noses at them, scoffing at their casual affection. Sander makes sure of it. Anytime Robbe’s smile begins to slip, Sander is there. He’ll press a kiss to Robbe’s forehead or temple of cheek, slide an arm around his shoulders or waist, lean down to whisper in his ear. It can be anything from sweet nothings to dirty jokes. Robbe has a similar response to both—his eyes will widen and he’ll blush, and he’ll either smile or laugh or scoff or shove Sander away, but usually a mixture of the few. 

There are a few instances when Sander feels a tiny flicker of hope come to life in his chest. 

It happens when he leans in and brushes his lips over Robbe’s ear, and Robbe shivers even before hearing his whisper. “Your dad looks pretty pissed, and I know you’re happy about it, but I think I’m having more fun driving you crazy than him.”

It’s risky—the riskiest thing Sander has said all night. It doesn’t sound like he’s joking. Everything else, he has been able to brush off, playing it as an attempt to make it look real, to make Robbe respond as he would in a real situation. Robbe’s reaction now, however, is different. 

It is real. 

His breath hitches, lips parting just slightly around it, and his wide eyes are dark and searching as they roam over Sander’s face. He swallows, throat bobbing, catching how Sander’s gaze falls to follow the movement and growing even more intrigued. 

Sander can do nothing but look back at him and hope. Whether that is that Robbe will understand or he won’t, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s real anymore and because of that confusion he can’t figure out what he wants, beyond Robbe himself. Sander will take Robbe in any and every way he can. 

Even if it means with a broken heart, as Robbe’s expression smooths out into another laugh and he elbows Sander lightly. “Shut up,” he mutters, affectionately, shaking his head through his smile. “I underestimated how seriously you would take this role, I think.”

Sander works very hard not to let any of his pain show in his expression as he smiles back. “I’m an artist,” he points out, shrugging. 

Robbe rolls his eyes with a huff, squeezing Sander’s wrist before stepping away. The inch of space feels like a cavern stretching open between them. “I’m going to get another drink. Do you want one?”

Sander simply nods and holds his expression until Robbe walks away, disappearing through the small crowd and into the kitchen. Sander slumps back against the wall, then, and buries his face in his hands. 

_Stupid_ , he thinks. _This is so stupid._

He’s driving himself crazy, wanting Robbe like this for real and knowing it’s something he can’t have. He doesn’t know what he expected. He wanted to help Robbe out, to make him smile, to help him come out to his distant family with some support. He wanted an excuse to be close. A small part of him wanted Robbe to realise. All of it has been stupid. Robbe had warned him that it would backfire and Sander had still dove in headfirst, unbothered, wanting nothing more than to be Robbe’s boyfriend even just for one night, even just for show. 

He hadn’t thought about being left alone by the boy amongst a group of strangers for such a long stretch, nursing his broken heart in the corner. Robbe has been gone too long, and while his absence should be an opportunity for Sander to clear his head, it worsens the wound instead. Everything is soothed when Robbe is with him. 

Sander heads to the kitchen to find him, and is greeted with the worst thing he has seen tonight. 

Robbe is laughing, his precious giggles falling uncontrollably from his lips as he tilts his head back to look up at the boy in front of him. He’s tall, taller than Sander, reminding him somewhat of Jens with his slim build and raven hair. He’s dressed better than either of them, wearing a dress shirt and slacks along with a tie to top the ensemble off. Sander would have no reason to immediately dislike him, if he wasn’t in the center of Robbe’s space, keeping barely a few inches between them with his hand settled on Robbe’s arm. 

Sander doesn’t think before he acts. He slithers past the people in the doorway and marches right to Robbe’s side, pulling him into his arms before the boy even notices he has entered the room. 

Robbe makes a quiet sound of surprise as Sander kisses his cheek and murmurs, “There you are.”

His heart eases slightly as Robbe offers him a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you on your own. I got caught up.”

Sander finally meets the gaze of the mystery man, who is already looking back in resignation. Sander works very hard not to let his smugness show, reminding himself he has nothing to be smug about. “I can see that.”

“Sorry,” Robbe repeats, laughing slightly. “Sander, this is Nathan. His dad and my dad are friends, so we knew each other growing up. Nathan, this is my boyfriend, Sander.”

Sander could burst with how happy it makes him, especially as Nathan’s face falls. He purses his lips and gives a terse nod, and Sander smiles widely. Robbe didn’t really need to introduce Sander that way. It wouldn’t have mattered, if he hadn’t said anything and let Nathan assume whatever he wanted on his own, which likely would have been to try his luck. 

If Robbe is interested, he wouldn’t have bothered giving Sander the label. Right? 

“Nice to meet you,” Nathan says quietly. 

Sander sticks out his hand. “Likewise.”

The shake the other man offers is short, over with before it has begun. Sander doesn’t mind. He uses the freedom to wrap both arms around Robbe and pull him back against his chest, making the boy flush and Nathan bite back a frown. Sander doesn’t have to say anything else—it’s clear he isn’t going anywhere, whether the other two plan to continue their conversation or not. 

After a moment of silence, Nathan clears his throat. “I’ll, uhm, talk to you later, Robbe.”

Robbe tilts his head, but nods in acceptance. “Okay. Nice catching up.”

Nathan offers him another tight smile and disappears, and Sander lets out a sigh. 

Robbe steps out of his arms and turns to face him with a raised brow. 

“Were you really friends with him?” Sander asks. “Seems a bit boring.”

Robbe’s lips twitch in amusement as he gives an exasperated shake of his head. “You didn’t even say two words to him.”

Sander shrugs, leaning against the counter behind him. “Didn’t have to.”

“I think you scared him off. What was all that, anyways?”

Sander decides to play dumb. It will be much better than admitting what had just happened and the feelings that led to it. “All what?”

Robbe waves his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. “That. You don’t have to take this that seriously.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sander.” Robbe tilts his head. After a second, when Sander doesn’t reply, he lets out a slight laugh. “Really? You coming in here and plastering yourself to me while I’m talking to a pretty guy.”

Sander’s shoulders droop. “Do you think he’s pretty?”

Robbe stares at him. His lips twitch against whatever he’s valiantly trying to keep at bay. It eventually reveals itself as a teasing smile. “Anyone would swear you were jealous. I appreciate the dedication, but honestly, you don’t have to pretend this much for me.”

“Who says I’m pretending?”

It just slips out. Sander says the words and then immediately clamps his mouth shut, going very still as his heart ceases to beat, stalling in his chest in anticipation of Robbe’s reaction. 

Robbe’s eyes have gone very wide and the air between them very still. “What?”

Sander licks his lips, debating. He could play it off as a joke. Wiggle his brows, or pout, or exaggeratedly carry on his point, stress that _as Robbe’s boyfriend he has every right to be jealous_. 

Instead he swallows down his fear, fiddles with the charms on his bracelet, and gives a very small shrug. “Maybe I don’t want to pretend. Maybe that’s not what this is for me.”

Robbe blinks at him. His lips drop into a confused frown. “What? I...you didn’t have to do this if you didn’t want to. I told you it could be a bad idea.”

“Yeah.” Sander laughs without humour, looking down at his hands. “It probably was. I’ve probably just made everything worse.”

“Made what worse? What are you talking about?”

Sander looks back up at him, gesturing between them. “This. Us. Or, me. Sorry.”

“Sander, you’re not making any sense. Did I make you uncomfortable, or something?” Robbe asks, voice soft and nervous. 

Sander huffs, shaking his head incredulously. “You haven’t done anything. It’s all me. This was my idea because I’ll take any excuse to be close to you. I’ve probably fucked everything up because I’m making it so obvious. I wasn’t supposed to be kissing you or clinging onto you or saying these things to you but I can’t help it. And I know, I know you didn’t want that but you just...you make it too easy, Robbe. It’s so easy to want you. To want this to be real.”

He’s thankful that they’re alone in the space, the closest relatives of Robbe’s being a giggling group out in the hallway. The kitchen itself is silent enough to be loud, Sander’s ears ringing as Robbe stares at him in shock, speechless. 

Then Robbe says, “Who said I didn’t want that?”

Sander stares. “What?”

“You said ‘I know you didn’t want that’. How do you know?”

“You,” Sander stutters. “You told me a lot of affection wouldn’t be necessary, and we definitely wouldn’t have to kiss, or anything.”

His breath hitches as Robbe takes a step closer with a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I did tell you that, yeah. I didn’t want to be too eager. I thought you would catch on.”

Sander blinks. “What?”

“I thought,” Robbe repeats slowly, smile widening, “that I was already with too obvious. Asking you to kiss me would have given it away, no?”

“I…” Sander shakes his head, lost. Robbe now stands toe-to-toe with him, breath gusting over his lips. He can pick out all the tiny flecks in Robbe’s eyes. His heart has gone haywire, stuttering and fluttering in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Robbe bites his lip, but lets the exasperated breath out through his nose. “Would you get it if I ask you to kiss me now?”

Sander’s breath leaves him in a rush. He can feel his heartbeat in his temples. Robbe has leaned in so close that the tips of their noses brush. He has no idea how they got to this point. He discreetly pinches his thigh and feels a faint sting. 

He isn’t dreaming. 

He has just confessed his feelings in the most ridiculous way at the worst possible moment, and Robbe isn’t running away. Robbe is still standing right in front of him. 

Asking Sander to kiss him. 

“Maybe?” Sander says. 

Robbe doesn’t bother hiding his huff this time, but his familiar smile lines appear as he tilts his head even closer. “Sander,” he breathes. “Kiss me.”

Sander doesn’t have to be told twice. He cups Robbe’s neck and guides him the rest of the way, pressing their lips together in a slow, slick slide. Robbe immediately sighs against him, his hands raising to Sander’s cheeks, and the kiss deepens on its own accord, Robbe’s lips parting under his, inviting. This is the one thing, even tonight, that Sander has been missing. Robbe has melted against his side a few times, soft and cuddly, but this is an entirely new sensation. He turns to liquid under Sander’s touch, leaning completely into his chest, unrestrained. 

It’s everything Sander had imagined it would be and more. He can’t quite examine it beyond the fact that he’s kissing Robbe—his best friend, the person who knows him even better than himself, who he has been in love with for as long as he can remember. 

He’s kissing Robbe because Robbe asked him to. Wanted him to. 

Because Robbe wants _him_. 

For real. 

Sander could kiss him forever. Robbe seems to feel the same, as he whines the instant Sander leans away, having to look at Robbe again, to prove to himself that this is really happening. That it isn’t a tease or a trick. He knows that Robbe would never be so cruel, but his head urges him to be sure, to clarify before going any further. 

“So,” he says slowly, “you wanted to kiss me because…”

“Because I love you,” Robbe says simply. “And I also really, really like you.”

“Not just for pretend?” Sander asks, eyes flicking between Robbe’s. 

Robbe shakes his head. “When you offered to do this I couldn’t pass up the chance to see…” he shrugs. “I thought I’d take what I can get. But you...you’re something else.”

Sander grins, bright and elated. He pulls Robbe closer, winding his arms tightly around his waist and sneaking a kiss to his cheek. “You just couldn’t resist.”

“That’s it,” Robbe laughs. “But I didn’t have to.”

“Nope,” Sander agrees. He leans his head against Robbe’s as the boy’s words finally sink in. Then he pleads, “Say it again.”

Robbe bumps their noses. “What? You’re something else?”

Sander shakes his head, remaining silent at the teasing. He brushes his lips against Robbe’s—hovering, not quite letting them connect. “Please,” he tries. 

Robbe smiles, soft, and closes the distance to capture him in another kiss, gentle and loving. “I really, really like you,” he murmurs. “And I love you.”

The words filter through him and settle in his chest, wrapping his heart in warmth as his own emotions glow from him. “Is it really weird to ask you to say it again?”

“A little,” Robbe laughs. His fingers twitch against Sander’s neck. “Especially since you haven’t said it back.”

Sander hums, considering. “I love you,” he breathes. 

“Not like you always love me, like a friend way?”

“This is how I’ve always loved you,” Sander admits. “You’ve never been just a friend, Robbe.”

Robbe’s smile grows slowly, until it’s almost splitting his cheeks, and only then does he leans in and kiss Sander again, a hard, sure press of his lips. Then he wraps himself around Sander’s arm again and tugs him out of the kitchen, grinning all the while, on the way to finish introducing his boyfriend for real.


End file.
